cherry
by an extreme case of guile
Summary: gameverse; Gold. All true legends started from somewhere, and time was only on their side.


**_disclaimer: _**_i obviously do not own Pokemon._

* * *

_tick tock_

He paced the dirt road. A steady back and forth, seeing as he had no destination in mind. The sky was darkening into a navy purple as the cries of Hoothoots confirmed the time of day. It's not like it mattered to the stout boy, however.  
A sharp thud came from his left side and he fell down. "Beat it, wimp," a voice echoed. The raven haired boy turned his head to see a retreating boy with long red hair. He wondered if the boy was new in town. It would be nice, seeing as there weren't any other children his age around. He'd have to go and say hello with some of his mother's cookies. He'd tell her about the boy later, maybe after his warm Moomoo milk and his nighttime story about the mysterious boy on Mount Silver.  
As he got up, he heard some flaps and howls of despair from behind. He turned to see the local professor running after papers that got caught in the wind. The man must of decided to not bother however, since he stopped and shook his head in defeat. He then did something that surprised the boy - he turned on his heels and ran in his direction.  
"I need your help," the man gasped when he finally reached him.

_tick tock_

The world seemed so much colder without the embrace of your local town. He shuddered as he walked the trail, his breath coming in an icy cloud before him. The autumn leaves were beginning to shed. The red jacket woolen with Mareep's wool as his only true warmth, he felt alone.  
Almost alone.  
Hesitantly, he pulled out the Poke Ball the professor gave him. Out came a Cyndaquil, looking almost as nervous as him. He reached out and almost on instinct the Pokemon curled up inside is arms. He felt warmth he never felt before. He felt newfound confidence.  
"So you seriously came this far?" a crude voice came behind him, and the boy jumped in fear. He turned expecting a mugger, or a Team Rocket member, but found the boy he met earlier. The boy wore a mean smirk and cold eyes. His red hair looked dark crimson. He was reaching for a Poke Ball. This was not a good kid.  
Without hesitation, he in turn set his Cyndaquil down.

_tick tock_

It had been almost a week since he'd defeated the boy. He felt bad at first, seeing the boy's stone cold glare full of humiliation and hate. But at the same time, he felt relief and strength. That almost scared him.  
The Cyndaquil evolved at an especially early level. He felt proud for his new pet. As a congratulations, he made sure that the new Pokemon got only stronger. Why not? It seemed to enjoy it. He got up earlier and earlier and returned home later and later for the training. He almost never saw his mother now, since she was always sleeping when he woke.  
Tonight was an exception. He entered the cottage to see his mother sitting in her trademark wooden chair, the fire's flames flickering off her face. He almost didn't recognize her. The shadows on her face looked darker, her strong hands trembling, her shiny black her now a shade of navy grey. She looked up to him when he entered.  
"Please," she begged, almost a whisper. He couldn't meet her eyes.  
He walked out, this time for good.

_tick tock_

He felt bittersweet freedom. At first, he felt guilty, leaving his mother behind. But as he advanced, he knew she could manage. It was what she did before he came into her life, after all.  
Like beforehand, his Quilava had evolved early into a Typhlosion. Unlike last time, he didn't even bother setting up a 'party', since that was simply who the Pokemon was. It had nothing to do with training skills, the little he had. However the Pokemon he had decided to train grew up spectacularly. Over time, he wondered if he really was gifted.  
This made him feel like that legend his mother always told him about. That made him feel happy, knowing she would be proud of her little boy becoming a legend. Because all legends started from somewhere, even if it was a run-down village at the edge of Johto.

_tick tock_

He could see them all. They never went easy on him, never lightened up. They would never allow themselves to be beaten by a kid from a hick town. But they did. And when they did, they plastered on a smile, gave him a congratulations, gave him a badge and a TM for the hard work and gave him a wish for good luck on his journey. Hoping that the next leader would be beaten like themselves. Pretending to want to see the uprising of a new champion.  
He knew they all secretly hated him.

_tick tock_

It had been almost a year since he defeated that red headed boy. The defeated boy in front of him now wore nothing similar to the one earlier.  
Instead the black haired boy that stood in front of him stared with defeat and disbelief. They were both silent, one glowing in pride while the other radiating disappointment. He could've sworn he saw the same expression on another boy's - so close to his own - all those months ago. But that changed. He felt warm. He wasn't sure if it was from his red Mareep-woolen jacket or his Typhlosion's ashes that spewed from his neck. It felt like it came deep inside him. That spark that was alit so many months ago in that chilly forest now a raging inferno challenging the icy winds that hissed at his face.  
And all of a sudden the boy was gone. He wondered if it was a dream. He took a step, and then another one. He staggered to the place where the previous champion had been standing. If not for the wind, he could see off of Kanto. The continuous snow blocked most of the view, but he could sense the long drop. Did he throw himself off? Not wanting to face the pain when he came down? All champions had to fall sometime.

But not him.

Not the boy from the run-down village with the Mareep wool jacket with the talent to raise Pokemon with a defiant challenge to all the gym leaders. Not the boy who took down the kid legend even he was raised to think he would never reach. Against all odds, he did.  
He was his own god - and why shouldn't he be?

* * *

Haha oh what is this. Late night ponderings and lazy wrightups, that's what. I'm tempted to take it down, but might as well get something up on this site. "First story, go easy on me, yadda" Tell me what's wrong with this story.

Also, who got the pattern? Besides the "tick tock," haha.


End file.
